You would be the one
by Lanceletta
Summary: Molly has one last question she has to ask. May contain mild spoilers for the third season. Not really happy story.


**Hi all! It's just a one shot I had to write, it wanted to be written. I became quite sad watching the 2 new episodes, I have a feeling that the writers will cut off the sherlolly thing. Hope I am not right.**

**Anyway, hope you will like this little idea, although I have to tell before you read, it will be a little sad.**

Sherlock Holmes was sitting in his armchair with closed eyes and was plunking on his violin. He was bored. John wasn't there to annoy. Mrs Hudson spent the evening with the neighbour and Molly...

Yes, Molly, Molly Hooper. Sherlock had tried to avoid the lab since the day they spent together investigating. She didn't want him around clearly. He only asked her help when it was really necessary. Like the preparation for the stag night. She did what he asked for, but she was different. She even made a joke out of him, actually twice. He knew that she wasn't over him, but she was trying and she wanted to be and he wanted to let her move on. He cared about her and wished her a happy life.  
Sherlock closed his eyes and continued plunking. He didn't open his eyes as he heard the squeak of the door knob just sighed and said.

'I'm fine Mrs Hudson, I'm not hungry, not thirsty, I'm just bored. If you don't have a great murder case, you can go down, please.'  
'Hmm...Actually, I am not Mrs Hudson.' Sherlock's eyes snapped open as he heard the thin voice of his pathologist, who was standing in the door of the living room.  
'Molly, why are you here?' He asked calmly looking into her eyes.  
'I...I just wanted to ask something, before...you know.' she swallowed hard; it was time to be clear, time to be honest so she spit it out. 'I just wanted to know before I marry Tom if I had ever any chance with you.' Now she was staring down at her fidgeting hands and added. 'I have to know, I have to.'

Sherlock shifted from his armchair and walked in front of Molly. An arm length distance, just as always, tought Molly. His face was stoic, but in his eyes Molly saw sadness.  
'No.' came the simple, honest and cruel answer in his low, airy baritone.  
Molly looked up with teary eyes and looked into his green-blue ones.  
'Not the way you wanted.' Sherlock turned around and walked to his armchair to sit down, and gestured to Molly to do the same. She hesitantly sat down and watched as Sherlock leaned back and placed his hands under his chin with closed eyes. The long silence was nearly unbearable when he finally looked up, deep into Molly's wide, brown eyes.  
'I am not who you want me to be, Molly. I am not who you thought I was. I am not ordinary. I can do things, what ordinary people can't but there are few things, I can't do, but ordinary people can. I am not capable of having romantic feelings. I've never been.'

He sighed and Molly felt something tight in her chest. Till now she felt sorry for herself for having too many feelings, now she felt for him for not having any at all. Sherlock went on.  
'But if I could feel love for anybody in this world, it would be you who I would love for a lifetime. But I can't. I would never be able to give you what you want from me, what you deserve.'

Molly squeezed her eyes and a tear run down on her cheek. She took a shaky breath and with a sad smile on her face she stood up and whispered.  
'Thank you, Sherlock Holmes.' Molly bent down and kissed him on his cheek and this time it wasn't her who shut the eyes and hold the breath.  
When Sherlock looked up, he could merely see her impossibly colourful jumper disappearing behind the door.  
A second later he heard steps racing down the stairs.

'Whoa, hi Molly!' John called out in surprise as he almost crashed into Molly Hooper at the doorstep of 221B Baker Street.  
'Uhm, hello John.' She answered but without looking into his eyes dashed away down the street. John frowned staring after her then went in.

Entering Sherlock's flat he saw the detective standing next to the window, looking down to the street.  
'Why was she here? The day before her wedding?'  
'Asked something.' answered Sherlock in a low voice.  
'And what was that?'  
'She asked if she ever had any chance.'  
'And what did you say?'  
'I said if I would be capable of love she would be the one.'  
'So you lied.'  
Sherlock turned to face John and frowned. 'Y-yes.' he said looking back out the window taking his violin and bow, and started to play something John had never heard before. 

...

If the crowd took their eyes off the small woman and the thin guy - the happy couple - and turned around to look outside through the opened door of the church, they would see the tall man in a long black coat, with curly dark hair standing alone on the opposite side of the street. But nobody looked.

**Thanks for reading! I would be really happy to read your opinion about this ficlet. Reviews are always appreciated.**


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